Smirk: Prequel of The Potions Master Series
by daeshie o'rivers
Summary: His long, shorttempered face was drawn into a cruel smirk, there was nothing celebratory about it. Dark Themes: cutting, suicidal urges, drug addiction....etc. Snapes POV, years 19761977, NO SLASH
1. Foreward

My dear readers… (as in you, lulu)

This chapter will be, by far, the most lighthearted chapter in this whole series (Yes, a series). DO NOT BE FOOLED. This will be a cake full of angst iced with sarcasm.

Forward: Smirk

1972

Severus Snape was sitting in a cupboard. This was by no means a favorite past time of him and he could hardly wait to get out, if only he could. Indeed, he was _locked _into said cupboard, wandless and about to scream his arse off.

He hammered at the wooden (spell reinforced) doors, and screamed at the top of his rather large lungs. And sighed. He also sighed. Finally, he pulled out a quill from the only thing that was inside the musty, dusty, cupboard, his backpack, and started carving into the wall absolutely anything he felt like. This was by no means poetry, or sonnets about the sunshine. Most of it was rather unmentionable, and sadly lacking in any form of optimism.

So this story begins.

Four years later….

Thank fully not spent in the cupboard.

The potions apprentice was now stalking down the halls; or sulked rather. His worn, charcoal grey (once black) book bag was now swung over his shoulder and he was heaving three hardback textbooks in his uniform-clothed arms. He barely was able to sense the jinx coming at his back, and once he did he was in no shape to block it. He spun upon his now four legs and glared at his terrible, evil, cruel, villainous arch-nemesis; James Potter and his cronies.

Potter was laughing luxuriously, wand twirling to an idle jig in his short fingers. Severus glared. "What _now _Potter?" he asked, already with wand in the ready.

"Dude," said Sirius Black, who was by no means serious and so much of a light wizard that it was nauseating, "you need to, like, take a chill pill." Sirius took it upon himself to give his poor victim a 'chill pill' and indeed flew a cheering charm at him.

The Werewolf, standing next to him, nudged him in the ribs and 'whispered' into

his ear, "You didn't send one of your full-strength ones, did you?"

"Look for yourself," grinned the reckless teenager. Remus did more than look, he

stared.

Snape had overcome the great tragedy of his overstock of legs, and was now indeed tap-dancing with all four of them while singing in a horrid falsetto voice " You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when clouds are grey."

"Sirius" hissed the amber-eyed teen, glaring at him through his quirked lips.

"YOU'LL NEVER KNOW DEAR, HOW MUCH I LOVE-"

"What?" chuckled Sirius, as James fell upon his shoulder, laughing like a maniac.

"YOU, PLEASE DON'T TAKE MY SUNSHINE-"

"YOU THREE!" came a shriek from McGonagall as she cancelled the spell on poor, victimized Severus ("away?")

"You have to admit he was a heap more manageable that way." Muttered Sirius to Lupin as McGonagall lectured them. Peter, who had just arrived at the scene of the crime was mouthing her sentences word for word behind her back.

Snape smirked from behind her, and galloped silently down the hall to look up the counter curse for his legs, and look for his favorite potions book. No matter how sinister his smirk was, he was going to get back at the 'stupid meddling, bumbling, flustered, pompous, persecuting, hair-brained, imbecilic idiots'.

Teaser of Chapter 1

He stared at himself in the mirror, steam clogging all but his toweled-off circle

What was happening? Who was this _bastard _staring at him back at him? Surely, not even after these years _this _could not happen to him.

He couldn't help but get at least a spark of appreciation for his sinister appearance. He looked more like 20 than 16. There were painted lines around his eyes and mouth, easily showing his displeasure without a single statement. There was a sharp rap at the door and he instantly put away his razor.

He opened up the door just enough for a sliver of his glaring eyes and growled at the venturesome classmate.

"What?" he spat out.

Nott glared back, his repartee was no-where near the caliber of the first attack. Snape's lip curled.

Nott gave him a lazy look "There are other people who would like to use the facilities, _Snape._"

The bathroom-ensconced boy simply gave a sharp bark of laughter, his lip curling, "Too bad I'm a selfish bastard then, right Nott?"

With that he slammed the door into Alfonzo's upturned nose.


	2. Whiskers on Kittens or My Favorite Hell

DISCLAIMER- not mine...yadah yadah yadah...hate the world...blah blah blah...don't sue...steal from my fic and you will end up on the buisiness end of my pen---ahem--- wand. because we are witches and wizards...right?

"_We waste away our days with nicotine and television samples,_

_From an era we hate to admit we embrace_

_We fail to represent_

_We fail to be content_

_We fail at everything we ever even try to attempt_

_And so the story goes…_"

-"The Future Freaks Me Out" Motion City Soundtrack

CHAPTER 1

He stared at himself in the mirror, steam clogging all but his toweled-off circle

What was happening? Who was this _bastard _staring at him back at him? Surely, not even after these years _this _could not happen to him.

He couldn't help but get at least a spark of appreciation for his sinister appearance. He looked more like 20 than 16. There were painted lines around his eyes and mouth, easily showing his displeasure without a single statement. There was a sharp rap at the door and he instantly put away his razor.

He opened up the door just enough for a sliver of his glaring eyes and growled at the venturesome classmate.

"What?" he spat out.

Nott glared back, his repartee was no-where near the caliber of the first attack. Snape's lip curled.

Nott gave him a lazy look "There are other people who would like to use the facilities, _Snape._"

The bathroom-ensconced boy simply gave a sharp bark of laughter, his lip curling, "Too bad I'm a selfish bastard then, right Nott?"

With that he slammed the door into Alfonzo's upturned nose.

---

He entered his lair with all the grace of a cat ready to pounce. He was met by glares from Nott and his posse, who apparently were displeased that their ostentatious chief had been rudely snubbed by Severus Snape, the _half-blood. _

Quietly crossing the room he sat upon his bed, raising a thin eyebrow at the other occupants. Swinging his legs over the green-silk edge he pulled a book from his heavily warded nightstand and opened it insolently, inwardly sulking. His recently washed (yes, indeed he did wash his hair…occasionally) hang like limp velvet drapes, closing him off from the world he hated with ardor so deep that he was thrown into apathy.

He remembered everything clearly, engraved with blood into his warped mind. He had come to this _school, _this nicely wrapped hell with only a handful of bad memories in his malleable mind, the majority of them thanks to his _dear _papa. He left it, not only a year later with shadows of ostracization, paths cut through his forest of thoughts with vicious remarks and verbal attacks. Year pulled after year, each taunting him with it's lagging presence.

He dropped the book sullenly on the rugged floor, cast a general privacy charm and let himself fall onto his pillow, his dark thoughts plaguing him the whole night.

---

The sallow-skinned boy awoke, or rather sat up, near dawn; the grey, dreary sky that reverberated through the charmed dungeon windows echoed his emotions better than anything else could. Opening his heavy curtains with a snap, he readied himself for another imprisoned day, he snapped back to reality when he realized the potion he was sniffing for verification wasn't his general energy potion, but his Scale-Skin potion he'd been developing. Carefully corking the misplaced potion, he pulled out the correct, fiery potion and jugged it with a practiced flick of the wrist.

Pulling his homework from under his mattress, and sliding it into their respective folders he slung his threadbare bag over his shoulder (a very practiced motion) and left the sixth year dormitory, casting a charm over Nott's bed to give him a hangover on the way out.

Snape hauled himself into the private labs a floor below the common room, dragging the leather box that held his potion ingredients out of his sack. He needed to restock his Energy Elixir V187. The adolescent-turned-man went through the potion with long-used ease, carefully chopping his Bane Root into quarter inches, so it could be corroded into his base of Elf Vinegar and some of the muggle caffeine he had substituted for Exoright, which was one of the most expensive ingredients in the current market. The substitute made the potion shorter-lasting, but it was a rather useful surrogate for Exoright, which was the variable of the potion.

As the teen sifted in the stringy hairs of East-African kneazles (which turned the potion the required red), he tempted himself with the idea of pulling the infected knife across his wrist. Deciding (with a strange sense of logic, considering the problem in question) that with everything else, his poor soul couldn't handle his whole arm being infected with juice of Sliver Bean.

Minutes later, the potion bottled in his re-usable vials, and room cleaned so the only evidence of his visit was the log book, he left for the great hall.

---

With a billow of his robes, the Slytherin entered through the eccentric wooden doors, his eyes slightly widened from the effects of his potion and the aroma of his morning work. Taking a piece of toast, and spreading green-apple preserves on it he bit lightly onto it, a satisfactory crunch coming from his breakfast.

The obsidian-featured boy was sitting in his usual corner, back to the wall and the only other occupant was the astronomy teacher, who no doubt kept nocturnal hours.

Severus sat in his shadowed corner for at least an hour, watching and mentally categorizing each student who entered the Great Hall.

He saw Potter stride in, his arms bouncing jauntily, and stood up from his seat, yanking up his school materials with him. Snape shouldered Lupin rather roughly as he exited, hissing threateningly in his ear "Beautiful moon last night, don't you think?"

---

Per usual, Severus was the first student in his first period block; transfiguration. He had no particular love for the subject, and had a particular hate for the teacher, but even this level of torture he deemed better than being at breakfast with the esteemed _Marauders. _

Unfortunately, it seemed, the Quartet seemed to be unable to actually do something that didn't include Snape's presence so he was quickly 'honored' with their esteemed company.

"Wankers, utter and absolute gits, little egotistical pricks," came the venomous thought. By some twist of chance, it seemed his energy potion had been a little too strong (twelve cups of coffee strong) this morning, so this contemplation came out a little too verbally. Four heads (and their corresponding wands) immediately snapped over to him and their target smiled.

/Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens  
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens/

'ahh...fuck that'

-----------------------------------------------------

look! I'm being faithful to this story! Expect an update sometime in the next two days (whatever lost soul is reading this)

charms and chocolate frogs!

Daeshie


	3. Gijon

Chapter 2

Severus almost left the transfiguration classroom in an exceptionally sorer mood than when he entered. Instead, he left fuming and glaring at the meddlesome portraits. The cause for this depression was the fact that Dumbledore ('the old fool' added Severus sneeringly) wanted to see him after lunch.

Completely skipping the Great Hall; instead retreating to the ticklish pear, the student grabbed a quick roast beef sandwich and ate it on his travel through 6 floors to get to the Headmaster's staircase. Addressing himself to the gargoyle (whose eyes rolled backwards, then nodded in acknowledgement), Snape let himself be spun up through the revolving staircase.

The onyx-eyed teen ignored all rules of courtesy and simply opened the door for himself, sitting rudely onto the guest chair. Dumbledore smiled benignly at him, but didn't say a word. Ten minutes later, Dumbledore's eyes now twinkling obnoxious. Finally, Severus snapped.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing dear boy."

"Then why, pray tell, am I invited into your prestigious company?"

"Oh! That what!" here Dumbledore cleared his throat and arranged his glasses downwards, looking through them at him with a newly presented air of mystery. "Is there anything you need to tell me, Severus?"

The younger (by far) fidgeted uncomfortably, finally snapping his gaze away from Dumbledore. "No," he said firmly, getting up of his seat and pulling up his things with him.

Dumbledore righted himself, and looked on sadly as Snape excused himself out of the office.

---

Severus woke up groggily the day before Halloween.

"Stupid morning," he muttered annoyed….

"Stupid life….stupid castle, stupid people, stupid imbeciles, stupid idiots, stupid little bumbling-"

Poor Snape was interrupted from his rendition of 'Teenage Angst' by a rough whisper next to him. Severus whipped around; for some reason, standing directly behind him on the dank hall was the famous Alastor Moody, top auror.

"Boy," growled the scarred man, and Severus got the impression that this man spoke only in one-syllable sentences.

"Yes?" he answered curtly, spinning on the heel of his foot to see the man fully.

"Where is the headmaster?"

The student nodded, "Six floors up, to the right, go down the hall with Odgen's-"

"Damn castle," muttered the auror, "just lead me there boy."

The shorter of the two nodded, turning with a billow of his robes as he led the man unceremoniously to the Headmaster's office.

Moody pushed the boy in front of him at the spinning staircase, after muttering the password to the cranky gargoyle. At the top, the elder nodded at him, before entering the office with a bang.

"Albus!" Snapes' curiosity heard from outside the door.

"Oh…hello dear chap!"

"Cut the crap…..attack…..family in Gijon, Spain….."

The rest was cut off as Severus forced his body away, unwilling to further think about the war, the war everyone had thrust him forcefully into and he had no craving to be in.

The slithering arrived in the hall to many stares, and he tilted his head forward so his lank locks could block his view. A few turned away at Snapes' classic 'sulking pose,' but the remaining stared as the Prince of Slytherin, Lucius Malfoy, stuffed a rolled up newspaper in his hand before striding his way out of the Great Hall.

"**ATTACK IN GIJON, SPAIN LEADS TO MASS UPRISING" **read the front of the paper. 'Old news' thought Severus sardonically.

He read on, and choked on his black coffee as the news hit him.

"Sephius Snape, Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, reportedly lead a group of people to loss at the attack in Gijon. Further news has been staid by the Minister himself, and a speech is to bee made 7pm tonight on WWN."

Severus dropped the treacherous paper with his mug, and ran out of the hall, the jeers of the Marauders resounding in his head.

"Poor father caught now, Snivellus?"

"greasy git like greasy it then, I bet."

"Going to go get a nice cry in the girls' bathroom now? Cry about your _poor papa _who couldn't lead people through an escape no more than he can care about his failing son."

---

"You complete, insensitive, little poncing pompous gits. What the hell?"

"But…he deserves it Lilly!"

"-you egotistical little prick!"

"Lilly-Flower! O Apple of my eye, just calm your little self down and-"

SMACK

James Potter stared, dazed, as red hair bannered out of the Great Hall before yelling out "Want to go to Hogsmeade with me?

He was met by multiple glares at the head table.

----------

CLIFFIE!

Please review!


	4. Mirror, Mirror

CHAPTER 3

"Failing son….failing son…" the invisible voice behind him whispered tauntingly. Invisibility was something he no longer wanted a cloak to do. Severus looked up at the clear mirror, which stared back at him hauntingly. Sallow skin, slanted eyes, hooked nose, dissatisfied lips, all in a perfect mocking pose of his own. Broody black eyes stared into each other, each holding the same plea for…for something.

Severus watched in astonishment as the mirror image drew back and fisted his hand, then thrusted it violently into himself. Shakily, he stared down at his broken, bleeding hand. It was good to know at least something about him could mirror what the wall couldn't.

His father, the one man he was unsure of in his life, the man that could inspire both pride and hatred, each deep-rooted to a fault. His father, the one laying in the shambles of the sixth floor staircase, 8 others from his department lay strewn around him. His father.

Unwanted, his hand crept to the lower drawer and drew out a razor. Blearily, something unknown clouding his eyes he drew it across his wrist, watching in overrated satisfaction as blood slowly poured out, faster, faster, faster.

And then, without a small measure of shock he realized that the cause of his bleariness, not only in mind was tears. Something foreign to him. And for some, equally alien reason he was smiling. Staring into his somber reflection and smiling, not innocent, not jubilantly. It was simply a smile.

That's when he fell.

---

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Black," this detention-sentencing voice was colder than ever before, and for the first time he could remember, the former boy felt his blood run cold.

They nodded, for once completely grim. There was no mischievous smirk, no teasing twinkle in the eye. Simply, they walked behind their head of house, doom calling out from the hallway.

Minerva McGonagall didn't even wait until the door fully closed, or even until she was sitting in her chair. Slowly, she turned to the two boys and started screaming. Hands waving exuberantly; fervently. The boys stared. Finally, at the last line, and slam of the door in their face, they caught on.

"Sirius?"

"James?"

"Did we just get a month of detentions?"

"I….I think so…."

"And do we have to apologize to sniv-_Snape_?"

"It sounded like that."

"Damn."

---

Severus woke up blearily, back resting achingly against something….hard? Slowly, he turned so his cheek was resting against the wood and sighed. Why the hell was he sleeping? against the bathroom door. And on that note, why was he feeling so….dizzy? Dreamily, he brought his wrist to his eyes, looking wonderingly. That looking like…dried blood? Why was he surrounded by that stuff? And…what happened to the mirror. Using some before-buried instinct that led him to sleep, he rested against the door once more, unable to bring up the energy to care.

---

"Minerva?" asked the headmaster as he knocked lightly on the door. He was led in by a frustrated grunt.

"Oh! There you are, my dear deputy. Have you possibly seen young Mr. Snape since the incident?"

The transfiguration teacher shook her head blearily. Only after the door closed, and she had a mug of conjured coffee under her nose, did she realize it was 4 AM and she didn't even have classes. Damn eccentric headmaster…

---

Severus woke up with a start, banging his head against the door. Climbing up, using the marble top as a balance, he heaved himself through the door, opening his brass trunk frantically. The potion…the potion….where was the flipping potion? Finally, he found his healing salve along with bandages in his black box, and quickly applying it.

Yet another day in the life of Severus Snape?...

-----

you'll understand this in the next chapter

cheers!

this was so fun to write!


	5. Unspeakables

"Twenty-six years and…

Seems like I've, just begun, to understand my, my intimate is no one,

When the director stole the show, bought its last rites,

They cut the cast, the music, and the lights.

This is my line, this is eternal,

How did I ever end up here?

Discarnate, preternatural

My prayers to disappear,

Absent of grace, marked as infernal,

Ungranted in dead time left me alone,

To this nature so unnatural."

-Sing the Sorrow, "But Home is Nowhere…" by AFI (A.F.I.)

Snape stared down at his plate. Why was there _food _on his plate. By no means, was he hungry. _Who _would put _food _on _his _plate? Slowly, he lifted his head and stared up at Dumbledore. The benign man smiled dreamily and patted his stomach with all the fervor as a child. Severus stared.

He made no motion to eat any of his eggs benedict, and the sorceror's cerulean eyes darkened threateningly. The Slytherin, who had no desire to be put under a tickling jinx by his insane headmaster, slowly lifted up a meek spoon and ate it's contents. Gracefully hoisting himself from the wooden table, he left the hall.

---

He really, really hated charms. They were so….frivolous. No wonder only Flitwick would teach the subject. If he had his way, he'd be down in his dungeons being smothered by potion fumes. He gave a disdainful look at the canary. Idly, Snape wondered if threatening it to be quiet would work….his silencio sure as hell wasn't working. Deciding, thickly, for one last hurrah he jabbed his wand at the chirping bird and muttered sulkily: "silencio oisea". The bird grinned, if they could, and gave a loud squawk. Severus' left eye twitched warningly.

"Now I'm telling you, you damn bird, if you don't shut up I'll…I'll…"

"Find a suitable punishment?" inserted someone behind him.

'Infernal Know-It-All…why couldn't Evans just go shag Potter? Then they could have satanic children who will later kill me in my sleep, in my fragile old age. Hip Hip Hurray…someone bust out with the firewhisky.'

"Need help?" offered the red-head. The Slytherin glared at her stiffly.

"Why don't you just go to your side of your room…mudblood, join your little grifindorks so they can---"

'_oh shit_'

The class was deathly silent, other than the thump of Flitwick falling of his stack of books. Suddenly, Snape couldn't breath.

Someone was throttling him….Potter? Severus yanked himself brashly out of James' grasp wand in hand. "Coming to her honor, Potter? Coming to defend your fantasies?"

A flash of lights and Snape was on the ground, petrified, jinxed, and silenced. Flitwick stared; Sirius and Remus looked guilty, wands held in their hands. James simply looked bloodthirsty, hands clenched at his sides.

The charms professor gave a disappointed look to Snape, and then turned to the Marauders. Finally he whispered, "15 points to Gryffindor for creative charm usage. Someone take Mr. Snape to Mme Pomfrey?"

Sneeringly, Nott stood up and calmly leviated Snape's bound body. No one suggested for their Charms master to simply take of the curses himself.

I'm sorry! It's a really short chapter but a new one will come tomorrow….pinky promise!


	6. Confined and Constricted

"_Outside the sidelines feeling harder than a martyr,_

_Stars are made for TV crime_

_Indoor living and cardboard confines counts for very little _

_When safe is just a state of mind"_

-I Am the Movie, "Indoor Living" by Motion City Soundtrack

CHAPTER 5: CONFINED and CONSTRICTED

Snape woke up groggily, and turned over in his sterile linens, only to be confronted with infernal blue eyes that twinkled in a contradiction of the usual pleasant amusement. He resisted the urge to simply turn back around, and instead heaved himself up against the headboard, feeling his knees to see if they pointed the right way again. Relieved, he turned into his-ever non-confrontational-Headmaster and couldn't stifle a sigh.

To his surprise, his esteemed elder sighed himself, and steepled his fingers under his chin; in a greatly uncharacteristic action, he dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his temples with his thumbs. His looked up, half-moon glasses tilted in a mockingly humorous way. The silence broke with a line that could make the climax of any melodramatic dime-novel. "How long has this been going on, Severus?"

The addressed simply shook his head, unwilling to give up something already known.

"What are you insinuating headmaster?"

The headmaster's voice rang again: "I said, Mr. Snape, How long has this been going on!"

In terms of Albus Dumbledore, this was a rather harsh way of speech.

The boy's voice was monotonous, not even a smudge of emotion apparent.

"I said, Mr. Snape, how long has this been going on," he mocked

The Chief Warlock nodded, dissatisfied but somehow finding an answer, and sat back, not snapping back to attention until Snape stood up unsteadily. The younger took a step forward and immediately bumped into an invisible wall.

"You're on house arrest," the elder said, shadows of a twinkle creeping back into his embossed eyes.

"You have no such rights as to-"

Dumbledore gave an infuriating bow, and pointed to Mme Pomfrey, who bustled through the sterile-white curtains with an impatient air.

"The headmaster indeed is not licensed in Healer-Care, but I am, Mr. Snape. Now if you would lie back down, it would make everything a good weight easier."

Snape glared and lay down, holding staunchly onto his last shreds of egotistical dignity. He felt imperceptible magical rope twine around his wrists, chest, and finally ankles, binding him in a way that imitated the Devil's Snare he often had to use in his paralyzing potions.

And the rope held him down in more ways than the professor would realize for weeks, it gave him a constant emotion; apathy.

DAY ONE

Apparently, not only am I supposed to express myself in this infernal booklet from hell, but I shouldn't do it with a quill, no, because that would be _dangerous_. I've been given a bloody muggle pen, for merlin's sake. I assume this is to be used to vent all my improper and masochistic ideas, and send me into healing's treacherous arms; fat chance in hell. Is this to be a classic book of desperate prose that will come back to haunt Dumbledore, as he reads exactly what I write from the corresponding journal he undeniably has. Well take this, headmaster: fuck off.

These bandages itch. I should blame Potter for all of this, construct a dramatic epiphany of cries, blaming he and his posse for all of my despair. But knowing my luck, that would do nothing to get them expelled. I need a knife, I need a life, I need my own flipping bed back.

Die

Severus Snape, Confined in Pomfrey's Asylum

DAY TWO

There are few things you can do in a sterilized-haven of white linens and nothing distracting in the least. And they tire themselves out in short time. There are 456 tiles on the floor, to my knowledge some type of marble. The ceiling has 18 dead flies on it and my curtains have some unidentifiable stain. And the only conclusion I have come to in the last twenty-four hours is that anyone by the name of Eugene deserves even my pity.

There are sixty-four synonyms I can think of for the word Idiot, and all of them apply to Potter, Black, and their loyal followers.

There is both a constant lack of emotion and the rumbling of my inner hate in me, and their relationship with both me and themselves is not symbiotic. Crying is not allowed, Happiness is not allowed, and above all, Hope is not allowed.

These entries do not help seeing as I have not the pleasure of using a normal quill, and hearing it's satisfactory scratching sounds.

It's time for the third nap today.

Snape

DAY 8

They found his corpse today, under the rubble of what was once the third floor of my father's department. Now there is no-one between me and the leeching allegiance to the dark lord, and that is the only reason I miss him. Otherwise, he was a bastard. When the ministry official was sent in to tell me the news, she stared at me, waiting for some sort of nervous break down. Instead, after her self-important announcement, I sipped at my water and went back to counting the number of cracks on the left wall.

There is no reason for me to be here, no reason for me to be alive, and no reason for me to be dead.

That, is not suicidal, _that_ is not cynical, and that is not jaded. _That _is what happens when even your headmaster has not come to visit you while you are on suicide watch.

TBC

Please review and tell me what you think! It took a lot of work, and I still am not satisfied with it….


	7. All of That Filthy Empathy

"John A. Hobson was a good man  
He used to loan me books and mic stands  
He even got me a subscription  
To the Socialist Review  
He got a night life, lost his day job  
Pushing papers, swinging pendulums  
Anything to serve a function  
Or to occupy some time  
You gotta earn this living somehow  
You're good as dead without a bank account  
But it's funny how alive he felt down  
In that unemployment line"

Chapter 7

Severus woke up blearily to an odd sensation in the general vicinity of his face. Wrinkling his hooked nose, he opened his eyes, and promptly closed them again. Madam Pomfrey must have given him sleeping potion with too much yellowwood in it because his headmaster was defiantly not looming over him…tickling him with his beard.

With an air of futility Snape opened his eyes again.

"Hello Headmaster," he offered coolly, as if waking up in this fashion was an everyday affair.

"It seems like you must be awake, Severus!"

'Senile old man'

"So much good news, so little time!"

The Slytherin sneered weakly in response.

"No doubt you cannot wait to hear what I have to tell you!!"

A yawn.

"Well then," Dumbledore leaned back into the visitor's chair, "I suppose I will have to tell little grumpybum here anyways."

Severus sat up immediately, glad that Pomfrey had removed the ropes the day before. "Headmaster..." Dumbledore grinned and leaned forward keenly once more, and Severus got the distinct feeling he had lost. "Headmaster," he tried again, "what is it?"

The older wizard's mustache twitched merrily, and Severus pondered using a shaving spell on it.

"You see, my dear boy, one of the apprentices left Horace the other day, rather unfortunate reaction to moonstalk I'm afraid, and now we have an open set of rooms…as well as another opening!"

Snape stared uncomprehendingly, his eyebrows relaxed from their usual menacing frown into a confused stance.

"Tut tut, Mr. Snape, I would think someone of your mental capabilities would be able to understand that I have just offered you an apprenticing to Professor Slughorn! "  
A pregnant pause filled in Infirmary.

"No thank you, Professor."  
"Surly you would like to think about it! Your own set of rooms – a head start on a great future."  
"No thank you Professor."

The headmaster seemed to wither in the seat, before smoothing the front of his robes and standing up.

"I presume you have very valid reasons, my dear boy. Do not hesitate to tell me if you have changed your opinion on this matter."  
Snape sneered, and fell back into the pillows, "Do not fret, the last thing I should do is hesitate."

"It didn't work Poppy."

"I told you, Albus! The last thing you should do is go in there and bribe the boy with a coveted position.

"Bribe! My dear Poppy, I would never resort to bribery!"

"Oh Albus, I know you wouldn't, but that's no doubt what he's thinking right now."

Stupid, senile, old man. Thinking he could dangle an offer like that in front of you. My own rooms, scoff. Only weak minded fools such as he would resort to such blatant bribery.

"With all that trash at his feet  
The pools of piss in the street  
All of that filthy empathy  
For the way we're feeling.  
The billboards shade  
The flags they wave  
The anthem was playing loud  
The baseball game was letting out.  
And all at once  
he saw the dust  
And heard every tiny sound  
Got in his truck and turned around"

"Light Pollution", Digital Ash from a Digital Urn – Bright Eyes

Dear readers. Summer has started again, as has my fervor for this story. I myself, admittedly, do not read that many Snape-centric stories, but probably because the lack of good ones! So I have set out, with my laptop in hand, to try and make a success out of this.  
Hopefully, I will update soon! Thanks to all of those who kept me going: Iva1201, Shadowballad, saffron wolf and its a spoon.  
I know this chapter is short – I'm sorry!


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